United in slumber, I see the rest resting. I've lost the will to sleep and decide to walk along the banks of the Shayok river. Much to my delight, a workman joins me. He explains that he is in-charge of labour. He speaks of his family; says he misses them ever so often. That which we see as beautiful, he expounds - the mountains, the rivers, the caverns, they see as inhospitable and evil. For it is their job to cut through the mountains and extract paths from the depths of the earth; it is there job to swim in the rivers in a bid to build bridges that carry us. The rivers, I am told, are usually unkind. What we see as lessons from the Universe - lessons in strength, lessons in perseverance, lessons in life they see as necessary evils that must be braved to feed their families. For it is not they who seek these lessons. They are mere cogs in a gigantic machinery that serves to protect. And yet, he says, he is not unhappy. Merely lonely. He says our curse was their blessing, for they now have someone from beyond to speak with, to share stories with, to hear their side of the tale. I'm told that the labour they hire, usually locals, is uncongenial - for BRO and the armed forces are viewed with caution. I'm told that it leaves the men in-charge with few they can trust, fewer they can talk to.
But enough about that, he gestures with a wave. He turns his attention to the bridge they build. The process, he explains, is similar to building with Lego blocks. Their challenge, it would seem, is to build support structures using locally available materials. In times of crisis, synthetic material is impossible to come by. Pebbles, rocks, stones, mud and grime are their best bet. He demonstrates how they intend to support the bridge using terminology I can barely comprehend; but I try. He declares the bridge to be 90% complete. They need only work on the approach road and a few support columns. Even now though, it can bear the combined weight of our two wheeled beasts. We circle around, walk back to my tent. He bids a warm adieu, informing me that breakfast should be ready in 15 minutes. I thank him for his hospitality. He thanks me, for my company. I return to my chair and sink into slumber once more.
We are awakened by Bade Saab asking us if we slept well. Breakfast is ready, we are told. I wash my feet even before he utters the command. We are treated to a sumptuous breakfast following which we idly pack our belongings. Spiderweb suggests that the family three leave ahead. We intend to get more sleep and catch up with them. In time though, we decide to give sleep a go and recommence our journey. We thank Bade Saab with all our heart. I wish I had something to offer him for his generosity. Unfortunately, we collectively have nothing of worth.
We are told that rocks and stones will continue to accompany us for 5 kilometers more following which we will be greeted by flawless tarmac. We are told that a man who lives under a walnut tree in Aghyam will aid us in fixing the puncture. I find the description amusing. As we hit the approach road to the bridge, workmen help us push our steeds onto the bridge over mounds of mud. Motorbreath's steed hits a nasty bump on the incline and he loses a fork seal as fork oil oozes out in bursts.
We hit the rocky road head on. As always the R-15 begins to trail, the discredit for which should perhaps rest with me. We do not expect to see the family three for many hours since its been a while since they left us. But see them we do; for they await us where the rocky road ends and the tarmac begins. It's gonna be a piece of cake from here on.
In an act of defiance, Vishal will unzip and piss along the boundaries of the rocky road.
It got the better of us - this road through Shayok.
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